


Clarity

by EyeInTheDark



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Don't feel like typing all the characters individually, Gen, Head Injury, I just wanna cuddle him that's why!, The whole group as of season 2, Why do I love hurting Daryl so much?, Winter, Yeah I'm lazy, darylwhump!, possible spoilers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeInTheDark/pseuds/EyeInTheDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When he opens his eyes, he's greeted with nothing but inky blackness, and he realizes the horrific truth...He's blind..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the winter between season 2 and season 3.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of the characters. All I own is the plot :)

* * *

 

It's cold. So freaking cold.

Daryl hunches his shoulders as the wind picks up, trying to ward off the cold as much as he possibly can as little skiffs of snow are picked up by the breeze and thrown mercilessly in the groups faces.

Rick is the last to cross the frozen river, and Daryl is quick to step out on the ice. It's too cold to stand around looking at the scenery. The rest of the group is on the other side waiting for him.

Halfway across, Daryl slips, his feet flying out from under him and his bow skidding across the ice. He's quickly sprawled out on his back, his head meeting the ice with a sickening crack as the air is forced from his lungs with the impact.

He's dazed and a little confused as his vision blurs and the world seems to tilt precariously to the right. Rick is yelling, running across the ice to kneel beside him, dragging him onto the riverbank a moment later.

He doesn't understand much by now. He's only catching bits and pieces of the conversation floating around above him. Something about concussions and bleeding and worst of all; walkers. There's about five or so heading in their direction, and they have to move.

The un-dead cannibals might be slowing down in the cold, but it didn't seem to bother their appetite.

He's not sure who lifts him, but someone is carrying him fireman style, someone following close beside his carrier and applying a cloth of some type to the back of his head.

Daryl's head pounds mercilessly and he starts to feel nausous, but before he can manage to even think of being sick, everything goes fuzzy and he's willingly giving in to the painless world of unconsciousness.


	2. Dark

"Can't stay here forever..."

"Is he alright?"

"How long 'til he wakes up?"

Daryl groans softly, the voices filtering through the fog in his brain making his head pound all the more.

He hears someone say something about him starting to wake up, can feel the sun on his face.

His eyes flutter, but he can't seem to make them open.

_If the sun is shining, why is it so dark?_

He begins to feel light-headed as Hershel and Rick make themselves known, coming to sit on either of his sides, whispering that it's alright, he's okay.

When he opens his eyes the second time, and once again he's greeted with inky blackness, he realizes the horrific truth in one large tidal wave of reality crashing down on him...

He's blind.

Daryl is unsure whether or not his leader or the old vet have figured it out yet, but he _is_ certain. He can't see anything. It's all deep, black nothing-ness surrounding him.

He gives a small, distressed whine of panic, feeling ashamed that such a noise had escaped from his throat without his permission.

"It's okay, Daryl," Rick soothes him, and he feels the other man's hand on the side of his head. "Just relax, we're right here. You've got a concussion, man."

"Can't see..." Daryl whimpers, feeling scared and alone.

"What's that, son?" Hershel asks, and he feels the old man's hands on either side of his face.

His eyes swim wildly around in their orbits as he desperately tries to find some semblance of sight, but there are none. Only darkness. Deep and terrifying.

"I can't see!!" he chokes out, trying to make them understand his distress.

He's flailing about a moment later, limbs feeling heavy as he scrambles to find purchase in this all-too-real pool of darkness he seems to be drowning in, and he can't help but jerk away when someone touches him unexpectedly.

He can't see them. Can't hide the flinch or the tears that he knows are gathering in his useless eyes.

"Daryl, just calm down!"

It's Rick, pinning him down by his biceps as he struggles to breath normally. He's on the verge of a full on panic attack, and Rick forcing him to lie still isn't helping much.

"Just breathe, Daryl," Rick says, soft and calm. "You're alright. Just breathe...You're alright..."

Daryl forces himself to calm down, closing his un-seeing eyes and listening to Rick's soothing voice.

~*#*~

An hour or so later, Daryl gives in to the pull of exhaustion and lets himself fall asleep. There's no use staying awake anymore...not when he can't see anything but darkness.

Just before he falls into troubled sleep, he hears Rick and Hershel mumbling among themselves about him.

It's Rick who asks the one question he's dying to know: Will he ever see again?

Hershel's voice sounds grim, and the answer he gives Rick doesn't go unheard by Daryl.

"I don't know..."


	3. Useless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore the notes on chapters one and two. I have no clue what happened. Somethin' eff'd 'em up, and I can't figure out how to fix 'em without totally deleting everything and re-posting. I TRIED!! *angry mumbling about how effing stupid the computer is* ENJOY!!

For the next five days, Daryl does nothing but eat his meager share of the food rations and sleep. Hershel worrying about the concussion more than he is.

It's his eyes that bother him the most.

How was he supposed to protect the group without sight? How was he supposed to provide meat for them? What would they do with him if his sight didn't return? Would they kick him out and leave him to get eaten by the first walker that came around? Or just let him starve to death alone in some rundown house or locked in a car?

His mind wandered to dark places without sight.

Merle even came to mind, and when his brother's image appeared in his mind's eye, he couldn't stop the nagging voice picking on him, taunting him, belittling him.

"Just like I said baby brother," Merle's voice whispered in his ear one night as he tried to fall asleep. "You're nothin' but a freak t' them. You're a useless nothin'. Your new pal Rick's gonna put a bullet through your skull the first chance he gets."

"Stop..." Daryl whispers softly, cradling his aching head as he tries to ignore the voice of his brother. "That ain't true..."

"You just wait, Darylina," Merle laughs. "They're gonna dump your worthless ass out here in these woods an' let the biters tear ya' limb from limb! Jus' like they did with ol' Merle!"

Daryl wants to curl up and cry himself to sleep, but with the group within hearing range, he can't. He can't afford to let himself appear so weak. Not now. Not ever.

When morning finally arrives, Daryl gets himself up before anyone else and tries desperately to be of some use. He tries to build up the fire, but can't seem to find any fire wood near the heat sorce. He burns himself twice while looking for it.

He manages to tip over an entire folding table of things, waking up the group in the process and almost scaring the life out of Glenn. The Korean being the only one on watch and not noticing him until the crash.

He cuts himself three times trying to sharpen one of their weapons, and finally, after making more of a pest of himself than Carl manages to, Rick corners him and says they're going hunting.

"I can't see anything," Daryl argues, trying to get out of going, fearing the taunting voice of his brother in his head the night before was right. "I ain't gonna be any more use out there than I am here."

"You can help me carry what we get," Rick reassures him, handing him a stick to use to help him walk. "Just stay close."

"How 'm I gonna do that?" Daryl asks, temper flaring. "I can't see you, Grimes!"

"I'll tie a rope to our belts," Rick suggests, sighing in exasperation. "Would that help any?"

With a huff, Daryl reluctantly agrees to let Rick tie him up like a child on a leash. He'd seen devices similar to this back before the dead started walking, and he'd been disgusted by it. Any parent who couldn't teach their child to stay near was a fool and didn't deserve to have children in his opinion.

Not long after he was leashed up, they started off, Daryl trudging along behind Rick like a lost dog, his worry only increasing the further away from camp they got.

 _Would_ Rick leave him? Was he really that cruel?

Daryl nibbled absent mindedly at the side of his thumb, Merle's laughter echoing in his head the more he worried about his current situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *still mumbling angrily about the screw up*


	4. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THESE STUPID FRIGGING NOTES!!! I quit!! *Table Flip!* Again, ignore the end notes!!

The woods are full of bird song the farther Daryl allows Rick to lead him, and strangely enough, he relaxes. His worries of being left behind slipping away.

It's still cold for Georgia, but it doesn't seem to bother the noisey little song birds singing away in the treetops, a light dusting of snow covering the ground and the frozen grass beneath it crunching under the weight of their boots.

"Get down," Rick suddenly whispers, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling Daryl into a squatting position beside himself.

"What is it?" Daryl breathes, low and hopeful at the rustling sounds of the underbrush. He prays it's a deer or maybe even a rabbit or something they can eat rather than a walker.

Rick shushes him, and Daryl hears the telltale sound of Rick's jacket rustling as he lifts the rifle.

"Cover your ears," Rick warns.

A moment later there's a deafening explosion  to his right, and Daryl wishes for a few moment afterward that he hadn't ignored the other man.

"Told ya' t' cover your ears," Rick says, tone patient and kind as Daryl rubs at his ears uselessly, feeling foolish for not thinking about his now heightened sense of hearing.

"Did'ja get it?" Daryl asks breathlessly as Rick hauls him to his feet and starts to pull him in the direction Daryl thinks he was shooting.

"Yup."

He can hear the pride in Rick's voice as they move through the brush, Rick stopping him when they get to their prize.

"What is it?" Daryl asks, still a little excited.

"Little doe," Rick replies. "Didn't think I had a clean enough shot at first...almost asked you t' take it..."

Daryl frowned as Rick's voice trailed off. "Kinda hard, huh, Grimes?"

He heard Rick sigh softly, but the ex-lawman didn't answer.

~*#*~

Daryl sat quietly, off to the side, and waited while Rick gutted the deer, wondering silently to himself if the other man was as pale as he had been that day he had gutted the walker.

It was kind of funny. He had milked that experience for all it was worth, making it appear as disgusting as he possibly could, but Rick had managed not to get sick, and he respected him a little more for that. He himself had nearly been sick the first time.

Daryl couldn't have been more than 12 when Merle took him out hunting with him. It had been cold like now, and Merle had shot a decent sized buck an hour or so after they had taken refuge behind a huge fallen oak tree, facing the clearing they had learned the deer liked to graze in.

Merle shot the buck and then handed Daryl his hunting knife, ordering him to gut the deer while he supervised.

Daryl remembered feeling sick at first, not mad at Merle for killing the animal, but not thrilled about it either. He loved animals, much to his big brother's displeasure. He especially loved baby kittens. But he would _never_ admit that to Merle.

"Well, Darylina?" Merle taunted, squatting a little bit behind his baby brother with his elbows resting on his knees. "I'm waitin'. Get to it."

And so, with barely concealed tears prickling his eyes and a slightly shaking hand, Daryl had obediently followed Merle's instructions and gutted the dead deer, much to his own chagrin.

Daryl was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by Rick tapping his shoulder lightly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah..." he mumbled. "Gotta be..."

"C'mon," Rick tugged lightly at the rope on his belt, signalling for him to stand. "Let's get back."

~*#*~

After almost an hour of walking, Daryl was beginning to worry. It hadn't taken more than half an hour to trek to their position where Rick had taken down the deer.

"Where we goin', Grimes?" Daryl asked, wary and full of suspicion. "We should be back by now."

There was a long pause before Rick finally answered, not sounding very sure of himself when he did. "I-I think---We should be back any minute."

Daryl went silent. Rick was lost. Lost with a blind man who used to be able to find his way out of any woods and now, couldn't find his way on his own if he tried.

"We're lost, ain't we?" Daryl asks, tone tipping dangerously toward anger. "You got us lost, Grimes?!"

"I-I don't know..." Rick sounded as if he were about to panic. "I thought---I---We---We came in the same direction! Or at least I think we did..."

"Obviously not!" Daryl growled, fear overtaking the anger building up in his chest.

"I know it's this way!" Rick sounded as if he wanted Daryl to tell him he was right, but the hunter was far too upset for lying.

"You'd better figure it out, man! I can't do it for you!!" he fairly yelled, yanking on the rope tethering them to each other roughly. "I can't see where we're at! I can't see to get us back on track! I. CAN'T. SEE. PERIOD!!!"

He was met by silence as Rick tried to make a decision on what direction they needed to take.

Finally, his leader whispered sadly, sounding very much like a scolded child; "We're lost, Daryl...We're lost..."


	5. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the lovely readers who have left kudos, and to the adorable duosdeathscythe for the sweet comments! Again, THANK YOU!!

Darkness begins to creep over the woods as Rick leads Daryl around in circles. It's been well over three hours since they had figured out they were lost, and Rick only seemed to be making it worse.

"Maybe we should just wait it out?" Rick sounded unsure of himself and a little torn between continuing or just giving up until morning. "Maybe they're already looking for us?"

"Yeah," Daryl huffed, sitting down hard on a fallen log he had nearly tripped over a moment earlier. "And maybe there ain't no dead people walkin' around."

"You could stay positive, ya' know," Rick sounded a bit hurt. "Have faith in them."

"Why should I?" Daryl growled. "I can't see, and none of them know _anything_ about the woods. Faith...Just a bunch'a BS in my opinion."

"Shut up."

It was an order, and Daryl didn't take kindly to being ordered around.

"What'd you say t' me?"

He was on his feet in an instant, trying desperately to look bigger than he actually was, hoping he was facing the other man and his useless eyes held the glare he felt like giving Rick.

"You're afraid..." Rick ignores his angry question. "You think by belittling them, that makes it all better?"

"Man, you don't know what the hell you're talkin' about!" Daryl shouted, trying to get in Rick's face and failing as the other man took a step back.

"You're just feelin' sorry for yourself! Aren't you?!" Rick yells back, yanking obnoxiously on the rope binding them together. "You think nobody cares about you? Is that it?"

"Shut up!" Daryl roars, feeling his emotions getting the better of him. "Just shut the hell up!"

"You know what I should do?!" Rick hollers, shoving the blinded hunter. "I should just cut this rope and leave you here! That's what I _should_ do!"

Daryl felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. It couldn't be. The Merle he had dreamed up last night couldn't be right. He just _couldn't_!

Rick continues after a few moments of harsh breathing, his tone softer. "But I won't."

Daryl flinches slightly as Rick places his hands on his shoulders, shaking him lightly.

"I would _never_ leave you behind, Daryl. Don't you understand that? You're not like Merle. If Merle wouldn't have made himself such a problem, if he hadn't endangered us all, I wouldn't have left him behind either."

Daryl feels small, vulnerable in every way, his emotions getting the better of him as he sniffles, pulling away from Rick with a shrug. "Wouldn't blame ya' if ya' did..."

"What do you mean?" Rick asks, eyeing the hunter keenly.

"I'm blind, Rick!" Daryl cries, feeling a single tear trickle down his cheek, slipping down along his jaw and running down his neck to collect on his coat collar. "I can't protect the group, I can't provide food. I can't get us outta this mess...Hell! I can't even take care of myself anymore!!"

"There's lots'a things you can still do," Rick reassures him calmly, placing a hand on his shoulder again.

"Oh, yeah?" Daryl snorts disapprovingly. "Name one."

Rick rattles off several ideas. "With practice, you can learn how t' sharpen the tools and knives and stuff again. You can help by listenin' for walkers. Your hearing's gonna be twice as good as ours...And I'm sure there's other things we'll think of for you t' do. You're too good to be worthless, Daryl."

"I said name one..." Daryl feels himself smiling a little bit, and Rick pats his shoulder.

"That's better."

Daryl's head suddenly snaps up and he's on high alert.

"What is it?" Rick asks, worry in his tone.

"I hear somethin'..." Daryl says, soft and wary. "Somethin's comin'..."

Rick pulls on the rope and he's moving closer to the other man, drawing his knife and listening intently.

"Walkers!" Rick hisses, and Daryl hears his leader drawing his python. "You stay close t' me, you hear! Grab my belt if ya' have to, just stay close!"

A few seconds later, Rick is firing at the dead shambling their way, backing them both into a tree as they get cornered.

There are too many. Daryl knows it. They're hissing and moaning louder and closer than it would be if the herd was smaller.

"RICK! YOUR LEFT!!" Daryl cries, hearing hissing to the left that's louder and closer than it should be.

Rick fires, crying out in fright as another walker tackles him to the ground from the front, taking Daryl to the ground with him as the rope still securing them to each other pulls taught.

"Shit!" Daryl cries, his knife knocked away in the scuffle.

He scrambles for the blade, only to be tackled by a walker.

For the first time in years, Daryl does something he hasn't done since the first time his father whipped him with his belt.

For the first time in years, Daryl Dixon screams for help.


	6. Saved

Daryl kicked and screamed, fighting violently against the tireless walker pinning him to the ground.

He cried out twice for Rick, but the only reply he received was the other man yelling his name in return, sounding just as distressed as he himself was.

The walker just wouldn't give up, it's cold rotting fingers closing around his throat twice, his coat collar the only thing keeping it from scratching him, before he could hold it at arms length and start searching for something to use as a weapon.

As he scrambled for purchase on the slick, frostbitten grass, Daryl's hand miraculously landed on his blade.

With a silent thank you to the Big Guy upstairs, Daryl lunged without hesitation, plunging the blade into the biters head on the first and luckiest swing in the world.

He got to his feet as quickly as he could, rushing in the direction of Rick's terrified voice.

When he finally found the geek that had his leader pinned down, he stabbed it in the back, dragging it off of Rick long enough for the former lawman to grab his gun and put a bullet through it's skull.

Rick shoots the last two walkers staggering their way, and the woods fall silent once again, save for the two mens labored, gasping breaths.

"Son of a..." Daryl's voice trails off as Rick grabs him, hands sliding over the hunter's neck, shoulders, arms and chest franticly.

"Are you okay?" Rick asks in a rush, still patting him down. "Did you get bit?"

"Ain't bit..." Daryl says, feeling a little dazed.

How on earth had he accomplished that? He was blind for crying out loud! And yet he had still somehow managed to defy all odds and come out on top of a walker attack.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Rick says breathlessly, chuckling a little hysterically, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself. "I'm okay...We..we're _both_ okay..."

"Yeah..." Daryl murmurs, his legs suddenly feeling weak, and he's forced to sit down, Rick following the action.

"You saved me, Daryl..." Rick says after a few moments of relieved silence. "You saved us both. Even blind!"

Daryl nods slightly, still too stunned over his accomplishment to articulate anything sensible.

"Still feel useless?" Rick asks seriously after a few beats.

Daryl mumbles a soft, sincere 'no' and leans against his friend.

The pair stay that way, leaning on each other for support and warmth as they wait for first light.

One way or another, they are going to find their way back to camp, back to their group...Back to their family.


	7. Storm

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Rick and Daryl started moving again. With the wind picking up, it was becoming colder and colder as the day wore on.

"It's gonna snow," Daryl says after about thirty minutes of walking.

"How would you know?" Rick smirks, voice taking on a teasing tone. "There ain't a cloud in the sky!"

"I can feel it, that's how," Daryl retorts. "Mark my words, the way that wind's pickin' up, we're in for a storm."

"Whatever you say," Rick smiles to himself again.

Twenty minutes later, Daryl's words come back to haunt Rick as thick gray clouds start to roll in from nowhere, the sun seeming to fade away with the wind.

Snow soon starts to fall, thick white flakes, sticking instantly to the frozen ground and leafless trees.

"You were right..." Rick mutters, pulling the collar of his coat up, trying to shield the back of his neck from the biting winds. "It's snowin' so hard, I can hardly see my hand in front of my face."

"Told ya' it was gonna snow!" Daryl half yells over the howling wind.

"Now what do we do?!" Rick yells back, turning to face his blinded friend. "Build a shelter and wait it out or keep movin'?"

"Keep movin'!" Daryl says matter-of-factly. "We're gonna freeze t' death out here if we stop now!"

And with a little huff of agreement, Rick starts walking again, towing Daryl along behind him by the rope.

It's so bitterly cold. The wind is merciless, and the snow melts on their clothes almost instantly. After a little while, they're soaked to the skin, shivering and shaking and trying desperately to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. If they stop now, they're goners.

Daryl almost falls twice. Tripping over stones or limbs Rick forgets to mention or just doesn't notice. Rick does fall once, but the man is almost as stubborn as Daryl is, and he gets back up and keeps moving, both of them blowing into their hands to warm them.

"This is useless!!" Rick shouts after three hours or so of treking aimlessly. "We're just gettin' ourselves more lost!!"

"Keep movin'!" Daryl shouts back, giving his leader, his eyes, a push. "We can't stop. Not now."

With a heavy sigh, Rick continues, both men growing more worried than they had been the night before.

~*#*~

After another hour of walking non-stop, the snow piling up until there was at least a foot of the fluffy stuff painting the ground white, both men stumble and fall, too exhausted to take another step further. Too cold to care anymore.

"It was nice knowin' ya', Grimes..." Daryl murmurs, shivering uncontrollably. Excepting their fate now that they had stopped.

"Glad I got t' know you, too, Daryl..." Rick mutters back, eyes slipping closed. "I just wish I could'a seen...Lori...and Carl...one last time..."

"Me too, man..." Daryl mumbles, snuggling closer to Rick. "Wish we could'a saw _everybody_ again..."

The pair lay there, both flirting with consciousness, oblivious to a small, flickering light coming their way.


	8. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh! *Probably* only two more chapters after this! Thanks again to all the lovely readers out there! You know who you are!! Also, a quick shout-out to duosdeathscythe for the "suggestion"...you know what I mean...*lewd smirk*

"OVER HERE!!!"

Daryl is vaguely aware of familiar voices shouting somewhere in the distance, and he tries to open his eyes, to roll over and make Rick look to see who's doing all the yelling.

He's just so cold. Rick isn't moving beside him, so he decides that he souldn't either. Why bother? It was probably just the cold affecting his mind.

A moment later, he feels warm hands on his cheeks, hears voices looming over he and Rick, but he doesn't care. All he wants to do is sleep.

~*#*~

"Daddy! They're waking up!!"

Daryl cracks his eyes open slightly, still met with nothing but darkness, but he can feel the warmth of a fire and he tries to wiggle a little closer to it.

"Cold," he whimpers as someone kneels beside him, quickly wrapping him up in another blanket.

"We're tryin' to get you two warmed up, just hang in there," Carol says in her soft, motherly way. "You're both lucky you don't have frostbite."

Daryl hears a moan next to him, and he's relieved to know it's Rick.

With a sudden blush of embarrassment, Daryl realizes he's been stripped down to his boxers, Rick most likely in the same boat.

He squirms, inching away from Rick slightly, wishing there was any other way, a less embarrassing way, to get warm.

"Now, don't be like that," Hershel tuts, noticing the hunter's discomfort. "You wanna get warm, don't you?"

Daryl grudgingly snuggles up against Rick's side once again, still flushed with embarrassment at their predicament, but comforting himself with the thought that it can't hurt. Just once.

Beth brings a steaming mug of broth to him, and he eagerly sips at it, feeling the warmth travel through his half-frozen body almost instantly.

"Here," Hershel is suddenly pushing something against his lips, and he nearly chokes on the liquid as it burns down his throat clear to his toes.

"What the hell, ol' man?!" Daryl gasps, pushing Hershel's hand away. "Ya' couldn't gimme a little warning?"

Hershel chuckles, setting the bottle of Black Velvet on the floor beside his knee and tucking his patients in a little tighter. "Just keep quiet and drink your broth, son."

Daryl continues to mutter to himself as Rick finally wakes up, giving Lori and Carl hugs and kisses when they come rushing over to see him.

"We made it..." Rick murmurs to him just before they both fall asleep a few minutes later, the fire, broth and whiskey finally beginning to do the job and warm them.

"Yup...We made it..." Daryl mumbles back, allowing his eyes to slip closed, and not long after, he's drifting off to sleep.

~*#*~

The next time he wakes up, Daryl is happy to find that he's dressed -not in his prefered skins, but dressed- in a light gray sweat shirt and a pair of fleece sleep pants Glenn had picked up on their last lucky supply run.

Rick has been moved, Carol tells him later when he asks. He's now bundled up with Lori and Carl on the other side of the room.

It's just a small hunting cabin, one room and cramped with all of them, but at least with the limited space and the fire roaring in the small fire place, it's warm.

"How'd you find us?" Daryl asks when Glenn comes near enough to hear him. His throat is scratchy and raw, and he knows he must have caught cold. Kind of hard not to as wet as they had been.

"Dumb luck?" Glenn offers, shrugging his shoulders. "Me and T-Dog went out lookin' for you and got caught in the storm. Hershel had us tie lead ropes to the trees to follow in case it got bad."

"Good thinkin'..." Daryl says before being caught off guard by a rattling cough that nearly brings tears to his eyes. It really burns his throat!

"You okay, man?" Glenn asks, concern in his tone.

Daryl nods, waving for him to continue.

"Anyway, we just kinda stumbled over you guys. Dumb luck like I said."

"I'm pretty glad for dumb luck right about now, Korea," Daryl smiles weakly, and Glenn pats his shoulder.

"Hope you feel better soon, man."

Daryl nods again, settling back down into the blankets for some more shut eye.

Imaginary Merle was wrong yet again. These people _did_ care for him. They weren't going to turn their back on him so easily. Not after all this.

Daryl was slowly, if not grudgingly, excepting these people as his new family.

For the first time in years, Daryl fell asleep feeling wanted. Feeling loved.


	9. Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. It's really hard to wind a story down, but then again, the inspiration for this story is kinda fizzling out. Got a really good idea last night for another one, and I hope to have it up today. If not today, maybe tomorrow. We shall see!

On the third day after being rescued, Daryl's sore throat had healed and he was up and about, trying to help out as was Rick. The other man was suffering a bit of a chest cold, but otherwise, they were both _extremely_ lucky.

On the fourth day, Daryl was flat on his back again, nearly brought to tears by a screaming headache.

The entire group racked their brains trying to think of remedies, but nothing they did seemed to help ease the hunter's pain.

Hershel was becoming worried when the fifth day came and went, and still, Daryl lay in his chosen corner of the room cradling his head and moaning pitiously.

"What he's described sounds like a migraine," Hershel tried to explain to the others. "If that was true, the things we've given him should have at least helped by now. Something's just not right about all of this."

On the sixth day, Daryl didn't eat anything all day, complaining that he felt extremely sick.

Hershel tried to make him eat, but the hunter refused, his head just hurt too much.

On the seventh day, Daryl awoke late, the others deciding that if he could sleep through the pain, it would be better for him.

His head still hurt, but at least it was bearable. When he opened his eyes though, he was startled.

Light. The tiniest amount of light met his eyes. He still couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but he could see the tiniest sliver of light, like someone in the dark watching a fire from miles away.

When Hershel saw him stirring, the old vet came over.

"What's wrong, son?" Hershel asked, seeing the way Daryl's face was scrunched up as he leaned over the hunter.

"What time is it?" Daryl quizzed, ignoring Hershel's question and deciding to keep this new turn of events to himself for the time being.

" 'round noon. Tell me," Hershel knelt beside his patient. "How's your head feelin' t'day?"

"Like a smashed grape..." Daryl murmured, trying to track the light seeping in around the corners of his eyes. "It still hurts, but nothin' like the last couple'a days, if that's what you're gettin' at, ol' man."

"Alright, you rest," Hershel patted Daryl's knee and moved on about his daily routine, leaving the hunter to himself.

Daryl was a bit confused. How was he able to see light?

The next day, it was the same. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could faintly see light playing. Teasing him mercilessly. And when Rick came over to ask him how he was feeling, he could see the other man's shadow looming over him.

"I can see shadows..." Daryl said in a soft, almost scared voice. "And I can see light out of the corners of my eyes...Do you think...?"

"I think maybe you should have Hershel take a look at you," Rick suggested. "Want me t' get 'im?"

"Maybe you should..." Daryl murmured, still feeling a bit scared and confused, and yet extremely excited. Maybe his sight was returning like they had hoped! Or maybe it was just a pipe dream...

Either way, he wanted to believe, to have hope that he might just see again.


	10. Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww...this is it folks. The end of "Clarity". Thank you once again to all the lovely people who have read this and liked it. I never really thought any of my stories would be good enough to get this kind of feedback! THANK YOU!!! *hugs and kisses each reader mentally* EITD

In the next nine days, Daryl endured paralyzing headaches, nausea, and extreme pain from his unseeing eyes.

Throughout the entire ordeal, he could still make out shadows and light, Hershel and Rick begging him the whole time to keep his hopes up and fight the pain, not to give up on regaining his sight. Not just yet.

They kept the fact that he was possibly beginning to see a secret from the rest of the group, not wanting to get anyone's hopes too high. Things could still go wrong, but Daryl tried to stay positive.

On the tenth day, Daryl's hopes sky-rocketed, only to tumble into utter joy.

It was still early morning when he opened his eyes, only to be blinded by light.

Blinking rapidly, Daryl squinted up at the window above his head.

Through his lashes, he could just make out the sky, deep and blue, full of clouds, fluffy and white, floating along slowly. After a few moments of letting his eyes adjust, he could make out the trees surrounding the cabin, the woods as the sunlight bathed and warmed the frozen earth.

Daryl stumbled to his feet, still blinking and rubbing his eyes.

He could see! He really, truly could see!

"Rick!" he whispered, shaking the other man and smiling broadly when the former lawman finally stirred awake, giving him a perturbed look that only made him grin all the more. "Rick!! I can see you!!"

"Of course you can, Daryl..." Rick mumbled, rolling over and snuggling back down into the blankets. "What else is ne---"

With a sudden jolt, Rick was sitting bolt upright, staring stupidly at the hunter, still grinning at him like a cheshire cat.

"What?!"

"I can see!!!"

Rick quickly shushed him, looking around the room to see if they had woken anyone.

"Let's keep that to ourselves," Rick whispers with a mischievous grin. "Wait 'til everybody's up, then go about your business like you usually would. You know, like before."

"See how long it takes 'em all t' figure it out," Daryl grins in agreement.

And so, the pair keep his returned sight a secret.

The group is up not long after their little exchange and everyone moves about doing their own thing.

Daryl waits patiently until Carol and Lori begin to serve the rest of them breakfast to reveal the big surprise.

Slowly, he gets up, approaching the fireplace and holding his hands out in front of the flames with a yawn, then makes his way over to the two women, taking a bowl of porridge Carol hands him without hesitation.

"Nice mornin', ain't it?" he asks casually, barely able to hide his smirk when neither of them take note of his comment.

"It sure is," Lori says without a thought, attention drifting to Carl as the boy approaches, snatching a bowl from her when she hands it to him.

"Hi Daryl!" Carl says cheerfully, eyes big and full of childish questions as always, and for the first time since meeting the rambunctious kid, Daryl is actually pleased to see those bright, inquisitive eyes.

"Hey, there, squirt!" he grins, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately.

Carl gave him a long, hard look, suspicion clearly etched on his face. "You alright, Daryl?"

"Course I am, boy!" the hunter grins again, sitting down beside Rick on the floor. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Carl shrugs, plopping down beside his father and getting started on his porridge.

"Looks like it's gonna be a nice day," Daryl says, once again trying to sound as natural as possible. "Think I might head out an' take in a little huntin'. See if I can get us some fresh meat since we lost that deer."

"Don't get lost again," Rick chuckles, giving the hunter a sideways glance and a smirk.

"Me? Lost?" Daryl puffed up his chest in mock indignance. "If you would'a marked our trail like a good hunter would, we wouldn't'a got lost in the first place!"

"How're you gonna go huntin', Daryl?" Carl asked suddenly, looking confused. "You can't see."

"I can see as good as you can!" Daryl says matter-of-factly, eyes twinkling.

"What---?" Carl's eyes widened with realization. "MOM!! CAROL!! EVERYBODY!! DARYL CAN SEE AGAIN!!! HE CAN SEE!!!!!"

The entire room exploded with gasps and cries of joy and congratulations, causing Daryl to feel quite embarrassed. He mumbled quiet 'thank you's', and 'no big deal', he'd been through worse, and when breakfast was over, he had his crossbow in hand and was headed for the woods before anyone could stop him.

The morning was cold and crisp, the snow blanketing the earth appearing to be crystal as it shimmered in the sun, glittering and seeming to dance brightly in the warm light.

Daryl felt exhilarated to be in the woods again. Able to see, vision sharp as ever.

It was the greatest feeling in the world to be able to see the beauty nature still held, even in the cold, and Daryl felt blessed.

Extremely and utterly blessed...

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the way too short chapter. Hopefully chapter two will be longer. :)  
> -ONWARD!! EITD


End file.
